


dandelions

by makoharued



Series: 花の花言葉 (Hana’s Language of Flowers) [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Flowers, Language of Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makoharued/pseuds/makoharued
Summary: How dandelions reminded Haruka of his childhood friend.





	dandelions

The only word he could think of right now was: _hollow_. Every single thing felt unbearably empty, void – from his choking black suit collar to the sobbing sound of people around the suffocating room.

 

Everything that happened that day had been a constant blur of greyness to Haruka. All at once, his world had gone dark and quiet like he was given a pair of achromatic lenses for his eyes and a constant fizz of radio static for his ears. Then again, his every sense had given up on him, he could not feel anything, he chose not to feel anything. He doubt even water could make him feel anything at this point. However, his memory was not as useless as he thought it would be as he did recall a tiny gist of it – like the frowsty scent of the burning incense and the hushed murmuring chant of the priest’s _sutra_.

 

_What day is it today?_

_What time is it now?_

_Why is everyone crying?_

_Where am I?_

 

He stared blankly at the faint flickering of the ceiling lamp over his head as he let the questions unanswered in his dull mind.

 

Haruka slowly turned his head around and recognised some familiar faces near him – on his left, the blond-haired Nagisa who was sobbing with Rei’s hand on his shoulder (his red glasses were steaming from the hot tears) whereas on his right, Sousuke was scowling in deep grimace with Rin in his left arm, a crying mess. The atmosphere was sombre and heavy with melancholy. He got caught up along with it - his breath hitched up in his throat, suffocating him as his whole body shook in slight tremor.

 

_— Can’t breathe…_

 

To find comfort or refuge in the heavy air, he scanned through the room again this time to search for a particular face – the face he had accustomed to see every day, the face that had ingrained onto his mind effortlessly, the face that had always been smiling by his side throughout the years.

 

However, only when he did find it, it was brightly smiling in a big wooden frame on the centre end of the room amidst in the sea of white lilies and chrysanthemums with lights, sculptures and situated over a silver _casket_. His heart stopped.

 

_— Ma… Makoto?_

_—_  

 

Haruka stared vacantly at the vast sky in the midst of a hot, humid summer night. The dark night sky was adorned with a bright full moon and a twinkling sea of stars that seemed like there was no end. It almost felt like it was _mocking_ him with their illuminated exuberance comparing to his own empty and barren soul.

 

 _“Are you sure you don’t want to come along, Haru-_ chan _?” He shook his lowered head, and scowled deeply. He did not mean to be so rude but it hurt to look at the similar glinting green yet feminine eyes whom he knew that he could not gaze at anymore._

 _—_ _Who would want to see him burned to ashes?_

His neck was starting to ache so he lowered his head to the roadside. He was sitting on the top stairs steps under the first _torii_ in front of his house with his knees bent before him. The house downstairs had been quiet after every guest had left and the family going to the crematorium, leaving him with the dead silent of the night. He lost the track of time – _is it two or three in the morning?_ – he was not entirely sure.

 

The buttons on his suit and white inner shirt were unhooked and he had undone his tie, hanging loosely around his neck. But the suffocating stuffiness in his throat still resided.

 

_— Can’t breathe…_

He rested his head onto his knees and wrapped his arms around it. Under his own arms where everything was dark, his eyes landed on a lonesome, white dandelion fluff between his feet, protruding in between the tread and the riser of the stairs.

 

_— Fangs of the lion, huh?_

He remembered when he put his friend in the place of the perennial, considering that his nature was that he was tougher than he looked.

 

_“Taraxacum officinale - generally known as dandelions,” his middle school Science teacher that name he long forgotten had once explained to the whole class. “They look fragile, don’t they? But they are strong as they survive through the whole year even the winter. It is deeply rooted to the ground that even if you step on it, as long as it has its roots and leaves that is, it will still grow!”_

He plucked the dandelion from its stalk gently, trying to avoid its seed-head from scattering precedently. The left corner of his lip slightly twitched.

 

 _“Throughout its whole life cycle, it is the only flower that represents the three celestial bodies: the sun, the moon and the stars.”  An_ ikebana _girl had once informed him that very same day._

_“When the flower blooms, it resembles the sun, no? Its vibrant yellow colour stands out and even though it is considered a pesky weed to some, it still blooms brightly and beautiful to look at.”_

_“Haru-_ chan _! Look! A dandelion!” Haruka eyed his childhood friend who was running as fast as his small legs could carry his five-year-old self. He then crouched down and picked up the flower. With the brightest smile Haruka had ever seen that day, he extended his arms and offered him the flower. “Here, Haru-_ chan _!”_

_Later that evening, when his mother saw the yellow flower in his grasp, she fondly said, “you know, when a person gives you a dandelion, it is a promise of a total faithfulness.”_

He twirled the stalk slowly and carefully.

 

 _“And when the flower closes and later becomes a round puffball, it reminds you of the full moon, you see.” The_ ikebana _girl continued. “It’s fascinating to see that such vivid coloured flower could change to a different from its former form. There are always two sides of everything, yeah?”_

_“I thought of going to a place where Haru isn’t…” Haruka felt his legs wobbling as his lungs screamed for air and his heart leapt – not sure whether from the running or the statement he had just heard. He huffed and he puffed for oxygen. The green eyes in front of him lacked of light in spite of the pained smile on his upturned lips. Never had he ever heard the boy sound so broken and hollow._

_Despite the full moon casting beautiful reflection on the surface of the sea, it casted a silhouette upon the green-eyed boy who was standing on the shore with the rising tide reaching his ankles._

_“Would Haru be alright even if I weren’t here?”_

 

_“I wouldn’t have looked for you if I were.”_

 

His heart clenched, he thought. He did not know if he still had one at that point.

 

 _“And lastly, when the seed-head disperses, it floats like the stars in the sky.” The_ ikebana _girl had stopped talking and so did her hands on the flower vase. Her face wrinkled in happiness, “and they say that if you blow them, you make a wish just like you wish upon the stars.”_

It took him long enough to realise that there was nothing as accurate as dandelions that could perfectly describe who Makoto was to Haruka.

With a faint blow and a wish that surely will never be granted, the dandelion puff dispersed into the dark sky, resembling nothing but dancing stars.

 

—

**Author's Note:**

> headcannon: if makoto ever dies, haruka doesnt cry, he just stop functioning entirely
> 
> 1\. sutra: buddhist chant  
> 2\. ikebana: flower arrangement 
> 
> hello! soooo this is my first mh fanfic ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) so please be kind hahahaha jk hit me with yer best shot (ง•̀_•́)ง 
> 
> you know this is actually supposed to be fluff i dont know how it turned out like this φ(._.) anyhowww
> 
> im a sucker for flower symbolism, moon and stars and i have always wanted to write about the chapter when haru thought makoto as dandelions so yeap and the hs2 ch 8 just killed me i love them so much it hurts 
> 
> forgive me for the english, it is not my first language (ι´Д｀)ﾉ and also if there’s any inaccuracies in the japanese funeral tradition, i’m sorry as well (ﾟДﾟ*)ﾉ ! but i did a lot alot of research beforehand
> 
> be free to leave a comment or critique so i could improve and i dont bite! ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ
> 
> talk to me about makoharu at my [twitter](https://twitter.com/mkhrtrsh)! 
> 
> thank you for reading! (´∀｀)♡


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